


Life, in a Nutshell

by damalur



Series: Life, the Universe, and Everything [2]
Category: Big Bang Theory
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damalur/pseuds/damalur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penny laughs, cries, shrieks, smiles, and takes the theater world by storm. Sheldon watches <i>Firefly</i>. Leonard gambles. The world starts to look up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen from the excellent Barenaked Ladies song of the same name, which I think fits the story as a whole far better than it does this chapter. ;) Also, we're going to assume that Sheldon runs some sort of tweaked Linux system on his computer.
> 
> ETA (2012): I want to apologize for what is in retrospect a scene that is offensive to trans* people. I'll be rewriting or excising that scene as soon as a can find a bit of time, but this note will stay here permanently. Those lines were careless, potentially hurtful, and worst of all, written without any thought on my part whatsoever; I can only say that I'm sorry and will do a better job in the future of examining my writing.

In the years of his association with Sheldon Cooper, Leonard has learned to roll with the punches. Sheldon gets himself fired and turns to weaving ponchos and engineering bioluminescent fish? Leonard can cope. Sheldon is upset when Halo night starts fifteen minutes late and tries to ban everyone from the apartment? Just a typical Wednesday. Sheldon's offended because the Renaissance Fair isn't historically accurate? _Please_. Leonard had drawn up a basic list for dealing with his new roommate's anal-retentiveness three days after they moved in together.

On the whole, he feels that he's built up a certain immunity to Sheldon's peculiar brand of crazy. Things just don't surprise him anymore.

Until one day when, out of the blue, Sheldon brings up marriage.

"I'm sorry?" Leonard says, and pauses the movie. "Did you just ask me about marriage? I must have misheard you, because I could have sworn you said—"

"Not in relation to myself," Sheldon assures him. "I'm merely inquiring about your views on the matter as a favor for an acquaintance."

"O...kay." Life would be so much easier if he were Raj's best friend. "What do you want to know?"

Sheldon props his elbow on the chair arm and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. "I suppose it would be helpful to understand your general views on the subject. What drives _homo sapiens_ to propose marriage? How does the male recognize signals of receptiveness in the female? Please be specific."

"Um, most people get married because they love each other, and Sheldon, why are you asking this?"

"Curiosity is natural, Leonard, and may I remind you, also the basis for most scientific advancement."

"I'm willing to go with this for now, but if it gets too weird we're going back to _Dune_, okay?"

"I suppose as I am asking you a favor, that is acceptable," says Sheldon.

"Oh, great. As long as it's acceptable." Leonard sighs and stretches his legs out on the couch. That's one of the best things about having his own apartment; the couch is entirely his, and if he wants to rub his dirty, mud-encrusted sneakers all over the cushions there isn't a thing Sheldon can do about it. "This acquaintance of yours, is it a guy or a girl?"

"A woman," says Sheldon. "Let's assume that she's been involved in a committed, monogamous relationship for the past seventeen months, and that she suspects her significant other is going to propose matrimony. What would her response be?"

"That's oddly specific," Leonard says, "and how am I supposed to know how she'd react? Everybody responds differently to proposals, especially women."

Sheldon taps a long finger on his knee. "Leonard. Surely there must be some sort of statistical basis for predicting her reaction?"

_Why_ did he take it upon himself to explain social norms to Sheldon? "I doubt anyone's done a study on it. Look, is she in love with her boyfriend?"

"She says she is." A curious expression flits across his friend's features; his eyebrows arch, one corner of his mouth quirks, his eyes flick momentarily shut, but before Leonard can catalog the emotion it vanishes, and Sheldon's wearing his more typical look of methodical interest.

"So...she's in love with the guy, they've been going out for a year and a half—are they living together?"

Sheldon's finger twitches. "I do not think I may answer that question."

"Have they discussed long-term plans?"

"They have, and she is not adverse to a lasting commitment." It starts to dawn on Leonard what this is all about.

"Then I'd guess that she'd say yes. If she loves him..." Leonard's shrug nearly tips the can of Pepsi off his chest; he fumbles the catch, and the carpet only narrowly escapes a dye-job. When he looks back up Sheldon is leaning forward in his seat.

"How likely would an affirmative response be?"

"Jeez, Sheldon, I don't know. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Sheldon sort of deflates; his shoulders slump and he falls backward. "I suppose that's really the best solution," he says. "Thank you for your insight, Leonard. You've been—not helpful, perhaps, but certainly useful."

"Wow, thanks. Can we watch _Dune_ now? I don't think we're even going to have time to finish before you leave."

"I'll stay until the end." Sheldon gestures languidly to the TV. "Penny won't be home until late, and it's a Friday. There's hardly a need for me to abide by my eleven o'clock rule."

"Penny's got you whipped, huh?" Leonard says as he digs around for the remote. He finds it wedged under a throw pillow; must have shifted when he knocked his soda over.

"'Whipped?'"

"You know, like—" Leonard says, and tries to imitate the sound of a whip cracking. Sheldon tilts his head. "Like when a wife has her husband completely under control?"

"You are implying a romantic relationship between Penny and myself?"

"No, I'm implying that when she cracks the whip you come running."

One of Sheldon's eyebrows lifts, and Leonard knows he's been had. "Fascinating," Sheldon says.

"Oh, shut up. Now you're just making fun of me, which, hey, is personal growth for you, so good job."

"Are we going to watch the film or not?"

"You're the one that wanted to have a heart-to-heart in the middle of it," Leonard grumbles, but he presses the play button anyway. Bullet dodged. If Sheldon wants to know more about women, he can do what every other physicist does and look it up on the internet.

They're almost to the part where Irulan visits Feyd-Rautha when Sheldon opens his mouth again. "What if the woman and her partner have quarreled?"

Okay. Bullet not dodged. "They'll probably be fine. Lots of couples argue." Leonard determinedly does not turn to look at Sheldon, but he does make a mental note to research the subject further in the morning. If his suspicion is correct, he can understand why Sheldon's so bothered.

"Oh," Sheldon says, and this time he must get the hint, because he doesn't talk again until Leonard asks if he wants to order pizza.

—

SUBJECT: Your Brother, the Nutcase  
FROM: Leonard Hofstadter   
DATE: 10/10/11 9:13 AM  
TO: Melissa Cooper

Hi Missy,

This may come out of the blue, but you said to contact you any time we needed help with Sheldon. Is there any chance that you have a serious, long-term boyfriend who might be proposing soon? I promise this isn't Wolowitz trying to find out if you're single; Sheldon's just been asking some interesting questions about marriage.

Thanks,

Leonard Hofstadter

 

SUBJECT: Re: Your Brother, the Nutcase  
FROM: Melissa Cooper   
DATE: 10/10/11 9:34 AM  
TO: Leonard Hofstadter

Hey, Leonard,

Nope, no chance that I'm getting hitched. The guy I'm dating right now has commitment issues—what else is new?

Tell Shelly hi for me,

Missy

 

SUBJECT: Re: Re: Your Brother, the Nutcase  
FROM: Leonard Hofstadter   
DATE: 10/10/11 10:11 AM  
TO: Melissa Cooper

Is there any chance your sister is getting married?

Leonard

 

SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Your Brother, the Nutcase  
FROM: Melissa Cooper   
DATE: 10/10/11 11:03 AM  
TO: Leonard Hofstadter

Not a snowball's chance in hell. She just broke up with her high school sweetheart. What's this all about?

 

SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Re: Your Brother, the Nutcase  
FROM: Leonard Hofstadter   
DATE: 10/10/11 11:45 AM  
TO: Melissa Cooper

Nothing. I think Sheldon found my copy of The Courtship of Princess Leia.

Thanks for the help!

Leonard

 

SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Your Brother, the Nutcase  
FROM: Melissa Cooper   
DATE: 10/10/11 1:13 PM  
TO: Leonard Hofstadter

No problem. Let me know if Shelly's giving y'all any trouble and I'll get him right back in line.

Till Christmas—

Missy

—

Leonard's apprehensive about calling a meeting in his office Monday morning, but curiosity outweighs his better sense and he pulls Raj and Howard in as they pass on their way from the parking lot. He closes the door behind them and locks it for good measure; Howard looks baffled and Raj largely indifferent, but they allow themselves to be herded into the two olive-green vinyl chairs that sit in front of his desk.

"I," Leonard announces, "have a secret."

"This isn't about Gablehouser sleeping with his half-sister, is it?" Howard asks. "Because, hate to break it to you, but that's been all over the internet for hours."

"What? No! It's about Penny."

"Penny?" says Raj. "Dude, what about her?"

"It started the other day with Sheldon, believe it or not," Leonard says. He settles back against his desk and swings a leg idly. "We were watching _Dune_ the other night—"

"The 1984 film or the miniseries?" Raj cuts in.

"Miniseries. Anyway, right in the middle he asks me what I think about marriage."

"Sheldon? Seriously? Wow." Howard's eyes widen. "I mean, I know there's a time in every boy's life when he realizes that girls don't have cooties, but _Sheldon_?"

"I know, right? And then he says it's on behalf of a female acquaintance, and he wants to know how to tell if a woman is receptive to a proposal."

Raj narrows his eyes. "Did he get his hands on _The Courtship of Princess Leia_ again?"

Leonard waves a hand in dismissal. "No, that's what I thought, but I postulated that a better explanation for his sudden interest would be if one of his sisters were getting married."

"And?"

"Null hypothesis. I e-mailed Missy."

"So what is it, then?" Raj leans forward and laces his fingers together. "If it's not Star Wars or his sister?"

A triumphant grin spreads across Leonard's face. "Penny," he declares, "has a _secret boyfriend_."

"...I'm sorry," says Howard, "I must have misheard you. How did you construe that to mean Penny has a secret boyfriend?"

"Look at the evidence," Leonard says. "Sheldon lives with Penny, so he clearly has an inside track to information about her, and they've gotten closer since I moved out—"

"Last Saturday I walked in on Penny bleaching all of Sheldon's underwear because he accidentally-on-purpose deleted _Dancing with the Stars_ from the DVR," says Howard. "Clearly you're using some definition of 'closer' of which I am unaware."

Leonard rolls his eyes. "Regardless, Sheldon now lets her sit in his spot on the couch, which he never did for any of us, so my conclusion stands. And he said that Penny was out late on a Friday night, which is traditionally a night for dating—"

"Dude," Raj says. "Penny has a play opening _next week_. She was probably rehearsing."

"That's why I asked her," Leonard retorts. "She said rehearsal was canceled Friday because the director's baby was sick, and when I questioned her she made an excuse about hanging out with her theater buddies."

"And why would Penny have a secret relationship anyway?" Howard shoves his hands in his pockets; skepticism is written in every line of his face. "She really doesn't have anything to be embarrassed about. I mean, have you seen her—"

"Oh, come on," Leonard says. "She had a whole string of failed relationships. Maybe she just wants to make sure it works out with this guy! And she would have a hard time hiding it from Sheldon, so she probably—I don't know—swore him to secrecy or threatened his action figures or something."

"In case you've forgotten?" Raj says. "Sheldon is totally incapable of keeping a secret."

"But if anybody could get him to keep his mouth shut, it's Penny," Leonard points out. "We've seen proof of that. And he may be horrible at telling direct lies, but we know he's fairly comfortable with misdirection and omission, or else he would have pointed it out to me when I came to work with 'Property of Leslie Winkle' written on the back of my coat in Cheese-Whiz."

"Not quite the same thing, but let's assume your hypothesis is correct," Howard says. "This would matter to us...why?"

"Well," says Leonard. "Penny's our friend! She should be able to be open with us. And besides, aren't you curious? She might be dating someone completely hideous, or—"

"Or maybe she's dating another _woman_!" Howard finishes. "Think about it: the love that dare not speak its name. She knew they would never be accepted by her conservative Nebraskan family, but—"

"Or that." Leonard thinks about putting a stop to the graphic fantasies that Howard is no doubt inventing, but gives a mental shrug. At least he can count on one man's support. "We owe it to our friendship with Penny to get to the bottom of this!"

"Tally-_ho_," says Howard.

"Whatever," says Raj. "As long as you don't expect me to talk to Penny." He looks mortified at the very thought.

—

Their first step, Howard announces over lunch, is covert infiltration and observation.

Leonard's initial optimism is slowly being replaced by a sort of anticipatory apprehension. He doesn't know how Howard ended up in charge of operations, but he's pretty sure it's a bad idea, sort of like giving Jar Jar Binks control of the Death Star.

And yet, at 4:00 promptly, he finds himself part of the invasion anyway.

Sheldon answers the door with an arched eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Hi, buddy," Leonard says. "We thought we'd drop in for some Klingon Boggle."

"I'm sorry," Sheldon says, "but as I recall I specifically requested that you phone before stopping by for any activity not listed on our regular schedule of events. I believe I sent you an updated copy of the schedule last Thursday."

Leonard's about to turn tail when Howard gives him a nudge in the back. "Come on, Sheldon," Howard says. "Just one round?"

"I'm in the middle of reading the latest issue of _Particle Physics Quarterly_," Sheldon retorts; he looks like he's gearing up for a lecture on schedules and regularity and, who knows, the significance of reading magazines at four o'clock on Monday afternoons when Penny's voice interrupts.

"Sheldon," she calls, "just let them in!"

Sheldon does his weird thing where he half sighs and half collapses in on himself, but he stands aside anyway. They troop past and Leonard drops the Boggle box on the table. Penny is curled up in the middle of the couch, shrouded in a familiar poncho, and balanced on her knee is—

..._Sheldon's laptop?_

"Penny," Leonard hisses. He's afraid that if he speaks too loudly, he'll draw Sheldon's attention and then there will be _wrath_. "Um, I don't know if you realize this, but you're _using Sheldon's computer_."

"Yeah," Penny says at a normal volume. "Mine's on the fritz, and Sheldon hasn't had time to fix it yet. He says that's what I get for using Windows."

"O...kay," Leonard says. Sheldon, meanwhile, circles around the couch and settles into his seat beside Penny as if he hasn't just shaken Leonard's worldview to the foundation.

"Besides, I'm just checking my e-mail, and—hey, wanna hear a joke?" Penny asks.

"Sure?"

"Okay, why can Captain Kirk hear so well?"

"I dunno," Leonard says, and sinks into the armchair. "Why?"

Penny grins, and the room brightens by at least a candela or two. "Because he has three ears—a right ear, a left ear, and a Final Frontier!"

Raj emits a noise that in a men's club might have been a squeak of laughter, but Sheldon snorts derisively and lets his magazine fall to his lap. "That's appalling!"

Penny rolls her eyes. "Just because you haven't yet figured out a unit for measuring a sense of humor..." she says. "Fine. Here's another one you guys might like. It's a math joke."

"Bring it on, baby," Howard says, and Leonard can't help but think that the plan is going horribly. They haven't even gotten as far as distracting Sheldon and Penny so Raj can sneak into Penny's bedroom. It's more the other way around.

"What does the zero say to the eight?" Penny asks.

"You are...eight greater than nothing?" Leonard guesses.

"Nope."

"We give up," Howard says, and edges a little closer to Penny. She gives him a look over the rim of the laptop. It's odd, Leonard thinks; she's angled so that she's almost _leaning_ against Sheldon.

"Nice belt!" says Penny. "Get it? Because eight is just zero with a belt around the middle?" She sketches in the air with one forefinger, as if she thinks that will make the joke funnier.

"Penny." Sheldon's tone is exasperation given voice. "That is not in the least amusing. Nor would I qualify it as a 'math joke.' The humor depended on the minor differences between two symbols, not on any sort of clever mathematical conclusion."

"All right, Sheldon," Penny says, and Leonard wonders if he should duck and cover yet. "Let's see you do better."

"Pardon me?" Sheldon says. Their faces are mere inches apart; Penny's twisted around to scowl up at him over her shoulder, and he's peering down his nose at her.

"You heard me," she says. "Tell me a joke."

"Very well, if you insist." Sheldon's eyes flick momentarily upward in an expression that has always reminded Leonard of the hourglass icon on a computer. "Why did the mathematician name his dog 'Cauchy?'"

"Because it left a residue at every pole!" Howard answers.

Leonard snorts and Sheldon lets out his weird little chuckle, but Penny's face screws up in displeasure. "No fair," she says. "I didn't understand that one."

Sheldon tilts his head and opens his mouth, and Leonard's sure that he's going to either berate Penny for not understanding or attempt to explain line integrals of analytic functions, but instead he says, "How many actors does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

Penny blinks. "I don't know?"

"None," says Sheldon. "They can never find their light."

A smile blooms across Penny's face. "Aw, honey, thank you," she says.

Leonard and Howard share a disconcerted look; Raj had disappeared sometime between Cauchy and the lightbulb. "So," Leonard says, clearing his throat. "Klingon Boggle."

Sheldon picks his magazine up again. "Leonard, it is simply essential that I read this article on the latest developments in quantum chromodynamics. I know that not everyone displays the same keen dedication to science which I myself possess, but I would at least think that you would have the intelligence to recognize and respect that dedication in greater minds. We'll play after I finish."

"But you—" Leonard starts to protest, and then thinks better of it. Anyway, Penny's focused on the computer screen again, and short of his mother Penny is the only person who can get Sheldon to shift when he has his mind set on something. "Fine. We'll just sit here and watch you read."

"Sweetie, you don't have to do that," Penny says, not bothering to look up. "Help yourself to something." She flaps her hand in the direction of the kitchen.

Leonard stares at her for a minute, then shrugs. If nothing else, this is an opportunity to covertly search for clues; Howard's edging closer to the unopened mail on the coffee table, so Leonard assigns himself the kitchen.

The refrigerator is almost identical to his recollection. The middle shelf is a jumble of yoghurts, the top shelf is all styrofoam take-out containers and nutritional snacks with the labels turned out, and the bottom is empty except for three Snickers bars. The magnetic notepad patterned with sunflowers on the door is new, though, and the cereal row has some startling additions to the low-fiber end. The counter is clearer than he remembers; the coffee pot and Sheldon's extra cleaning supplies have switched places, and the Batman cookie jar has migrated to—Leonard twists around—the bookcase, of all things. He takes a handful of chips from the bag on the microwave to justify his expedition and returns to his seat.

Sheldon's eyes are flying across the page. Quiet moments like this remind Leonard that, for all his friend's intellectual bravado and social ineptness, Sheldon really is _that_ smart. Leonard's not exactly at the shallow end of the IQ pool himself, but when Sheldon says that gravity would have been apparent to him without the apple, Leonard can't help but believe a little bit. That makes him think about what it must be like to be Sheldon Cooper, able to solve the most complex scientific problems but incapable of maintaining more than four friendships, and he feels a wave of gratitude for the balance he's learning to sustain in his own life.

Raj slips back into the room at the same moment Sheldon flips his magazine shut. "I'm finished," Sheldon announces. "You know, I've been re-reading _paghmo' tIn mIS_ and I think you'll find I've picked up some challenging new vocabulary words. Shakespeare is best read in the original Klingon."

"Uh, that's great, Sheldon," Leonard says. Raj is jerking his head frantically toward the door; Leonard imitates the gesture as subtly as possible for Howard's benefit, and Howard's eyes widen.

"But I just remembered that I...left the Mars Rover on!" Howard jumps in. "We'd better go turn it off! All of us. Now."

"What?" Sheldon says. His brow creases. "I don't understand."

"That's okay, Sheldon, we'll just have to come back some other time," says Howard. "Tomorrow. Next week." Leonard scrambles for the Boggle set, Howard snags him by the elbow, and they sweep out the door in a tangle of arms and legs. Leonard just has enough time to call "ByePennybyeSheldon!" before Raj pulls the door shut.

"Well, man?" Howard whispers. "No, wait, not here. Sheldon probably has the hallway bugged."

Raj shrugs. "We can go back to my apartment if you want," he says, and then grins. "But you will never _believe_ what I found!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe a debt of gratitude to htbthomas for beta reading this part - thanks so much for your help! - and to znuese for reminding me of Penny's astrological sign. The bit about the salads is courtesy of N. Gaiman and T. Prachett.

_**Sagittarius (11/22-12/21)**_  
★★☆☆☆

_A pressing matter will quickly come to a head as someone close to you confronts a shared issue. Stay cool and face things head on today, or regret avoiding the issue later. Saturn moves into practical Virgo, which may signal renewed vitality for your career. Look for help in the near future from an unexpected quarter; an overlooked friend or colleague and your immense personal energy should carry you through the worst of the storm. You may be vulnerable to a stomach upset today, so avoid salads._

—

The coffee table is not correctly aligned.

"I'm not much good at Klingon Boggle," Penny says, "but I'm killer at Monopoly."

The table is not correctly aligned. Leonard, in his scramble for the Boggle box, had knocked against the northeast corner. The long edges are no longer parallel to the couch.

"Y'know, if you're up for Monopoly." Penny's words are fraught with pauses; Sheldon tentatively classifies her tone as "hesitant," estimates the new distance between the couch and the table, blinks—the calculation is so swift that it wouldn't even seem like calculation to most—and determines that the table needs to be rotated one-eighth-pi radians clockwise.

"Or not," Penny says.

Sheldon stands, hooks his hand under the closest edge of the table, and gives a precise push. The whole thing shifts and settles back into the grooves worn into the carpet. He turns to Penny. "Monopoly would be acceptable. Which edition would you prefer?"

Penny's face screws up. "What are my choices?"

"Classic Monopoly, Batman Monopoly, Nintendo Monopoly, Star Trek: The Original Series Limited Edition Monopoly, and," he casts his eyes upward, "Cat Lover's Monopoly."

"Aw," Penny says—exactly the reaction he could have predicted. "Cat Lover's Monopoly?"

He stiffens. "It was a gift. From—"

"Your Meemaw," she finishes, and with her understanding his trapezium and deltoids loosen; the latissimus dorsi contracts briefly before relaxing. "Classic Monopoly sounds kinda intriguing. I haven't played the old school version in ages."

"We can use the Cat Lover's edition if you'd prefer."

"Nah, I've played that. And I don't think I'd really appreciate Nintendo Monopoly." She untangles her legs from his poncho and stands; his laptop slides to the couch and he doesn't even think to chastise her, he's so distracted by the shifting flashes of skin he can glimpse beneath the voluminous fabric.

She takes a step toward him, close enough now that she has to turn her face up to look him in the eye. "I thought you were getting Monopoly?"

"I am," he answers automatically, but he makes no overture to movement. The edges of her lips are beginning to quirk up, but he can already read the smile in the crinkles around her eyes. He leans into her; she's so _short_, so much smaller than he is in stature and span and the breadth of her palms. He's not usually conscious of his height, but he must be at least six inches taller than she.

He has to bend over a significant distance to kiss her—but as always, she surprises him, and meets his lips halfway.

Her mouth is open and hot beneath his own, her lips just chapped enough to create an interesting rasp. He catalogues the unique blend of chemical changes that mark osculation, the increase in his own oxytocin levels and the decrease in hers, and then abruptly his mind shunts conscious observation to the lowest level of thought—he can't ever shut it off entirely, but this is the closest he gets, and it's enough to feel the warmth of Penny's mouth and the brush of her fingers against his nape.

When she pulls away, she uses the hand wrapped around his neck to keep their foreheads anchored together; he can feel her lips curve against his chin. "So," she says, and the breathiness of her voice sent an unfamiliar tinge down his spine. "Monopoly."

"Monopoly," he agrees, and thinks about asking her, and instead presses closer for just a nanosecond before stepping away. She scoops his computer up from the couch and relocates it to the center of his desk; he's pleased to note that she plugs in the power cable before turning to the kitchen.

"You hungry?" she calls. "We could order take-out and eat while we play."

"It's early," he points out, but without any real stringency. Classic Monopoly is sandwiched at the very bottom of the game cabinet; his fingers linger on the Cat Lover's edition before he levers the stack of boxes up and slides the appropriate version out.

"Sure," Penny says, "but by the time we call in the order and set up the board and run down to get the food, it'll be close enough to dinner time. And Sheldon, I'm hungry _now_." She places an undue amount of stress on the final word, in what must surely be an attempt to emphasize her ravenousness.

"Oh, very well," he says. "Just be sure you request extra peanut sauce with my satay."

He knows it's not possible to _hear_ someone roll their eyes, but he's equally certain that Penny is doing so anyway. "Yeah, yeah. Seriously, Sheldon, I'm not a complete idiot."

There are at least a dozen responses that occur to him, but instead he settles for, "Of course not," and sets to straightening the paper Monopoly money. It doesn't need straightening, of course; he keeps everything clipped in neat piles by denomination. Penny hovers indecisively over the menu while he arranges the houses and hotels into neat rows down the center of the board, not punching in the number for the restaurant until he's checking that the "Get Out of Jail Free" cards are evenly distributed. He's positioning his token on the first square when she flips her phone shut and drops into the armchair across from him.

"It's more cost-effective if we drive down to the restaurant and pick up the order ourselves," he says, in what almost amounts to a moderate tone.

"Yeah, I know." She tucks her feet beneath her. "I just really do not feel like leaving, you know?"

He doesn't, but he hands her a stack of rainbow money anyway. "My wallet is in the desk drawer."

"Thanks, sweetie," she says, and sighs. "So. What's new in the world of quantum dynamics?"

"Chromodynamics," he corrects. "There are some intriguing new developments among non-pertubative approaches to QCD, and..." Odd, he thinks. She's never displayed an interest in the strong interaction before now. "Penny? Are you genuinely interested in the latest research in particle physics?"

She rolls the dice slowly in one cupped hand. "Well. I'm interested because you're interested. It's kinda cute to hear you babble about stuff like that, even if I don't really understand it."

"The topic is not particularly germane to my current line of research," he offers. "And as such, I feel no particular need to, as you put it, 'babble' to you about such an inconsequential subject."

She flashes him a quick, brilliant grin. "Thanks, for once," she says. "I'm serious when I say I usually enjoy it, but..."

"Was your day displeasing in some way?"

"Hm?" She cocks her head. "Oh. No, it was fine. Just long, you know? With opening night coming up—and did you notice something weird about Leonard?"

"He knocked the table out of place," Sheldon observes cautiously. Really, gifted though he is, Penny should know by now that human behavior is hardly his strong suit.

She chuckles. "Besides that."

"He—" Sheldon's brow furrows. "He showed up without calling ahead, even though he is usually scrupulous about adhering to our pre-arranged schedule?"

"That wasn't it, either," Penny says, and lets the dice fall from her hand. They plummet at the expected rate and hit the board, tumbling to a halt just millimeters from his orderly row of hotels, showing a three and a five face-up. "He just seemed a little twitchy. And I'm pretty sure that Howard was going through our mail."

"This is hardly the first time any of our—and I use this term very loosely—'friends' have acted unusually with regards to either you or the post."

"True," Penny says. "Anyway, Leonard's always jumpy a couple of days before he goes on a date."

Sheldon edges the dice away from his hotels and palms them, jiggling his hand back and forth the required eighteen times before releasing his grip. "Days? You might as well say that a main sequence star takes days to become a white dwarf. Four. You go first."

"He does get a little bit jittery, doesn't he?" she says, and scoops the dice back up. "Fortunately, you don't seem to have that problem."

"Only because I'm too 'stubborn, egotistical, and socially obtuse' to understand that sort of anxiety," he mutters. She recognizes her own words quoted back at her and laughs outright this time, her loose hair falling against her neck in a most distracting way. He knows he doesn't understand or process emotion in exactly the same way as the rest of the world, but at least he can make her laugh. He's getting better at it, too.

"And thank goodness," she says through her giggles. "Leonard should be so lucky."

He makes a short, gratified hum, but she picks up on it, of course. She reads his intent better than anyone he's ever met, better even than those rare moments of communion with his twin; he thinks it's because she's taken the time and care to study him as he's studied her. "I think you're just happy that he's given up on me."

"I most certainly am not," he retorts, letting the expected exasperation dictate his response.

"Sure," she says. "Why would Doctor Sheldon Cooper, Ph.D., be jealous over little old me?"

He opens his mouth and what comes out is, "It's your turn. Are you going to buy that property or not?"

"Course I am," she says, but there's something dancing still in her eyes as she counts out the correct sum for Oriental Avenue. His fingers cradle hers when she passes him the money, and he catches her gaze; something in his chest tightens almost painfully, and she says, "I'm in love with you, you know."

He freezes, paralyzed, and for all his grants and scholarship and degrees, for all his awards and discoveries and published theorems, he can't find an answer to give her.

"It's okay," she says, "you don't have to say it back," and for all his genius he can't tell if her smile is tender or brittle.

—

Penny certainly doesn't seem to display any adverse effects in the aftermath of her confession. Still, it distracts him; she distracts him. The next day he finds himself pacing through the halls almost aimlessly, searching for his office a floor too low and eight doors too far down. He reverses direction abruptly in front of the water fountain and starts toward Koothrappali's office; it's become something of a gathering place for the four of them, since it is both large and not inhabited by an individual excessively concerned with order or hygiene.

Also, it lacks the atrocious olive-green chairs that occupy the space before Leonard's desk.

His hand is on the doorknob when Wolowitz's voice drifts through the door. "...to do with Penny," the other man is saying, and Sheldon pauses. He doesn't normally condone eavesdropping, but perhaps he could make an exception just this once—

"I still say it's Sheldon," Leonard says.

"No way, dude," says Koothrappali. "Sheldon and Penny? You must be joking. And with the evidence I found in Penny's room—"

"Oh, that has nothing to do with anything, and you know it," Leonard snaps. "Will you just drop it already?"

"I don't know, if I found something that...well, _suggestive_..." Wolowitz, of course; even Sheldon can recognize the innuendo. And when had Koothrappali been in Penny's room? Surely he must realize that nobody is allowed in Penny's room without Penny's express permission. Sheldon's even been thinking of drawing up a pre-written easement—for everyone aside from himself, of course. "And Leonard, you're a good scientist, but I'm sorry—I just don't see how it's possible in this universe or any parallel one for you to conclude that Penny and Sheldon are together."

"And you have not presented us with any definitive evidence," Koothrappali adds. "I find it far easier to accept Howard's hypothesis that Penny is secretly dating a woman than your hypothesis that Penny is secretly dating Sheldon."

"I'm telling you guys, there's something up with the two of them," Leonard says. There's a rustling noise and then a muffled thump, both sounds unidentifiable to Sheldon.

"You could ask Penny about it, if you're that sure," says Koothrappalli.

Leonard snorts. "And if I'm wrong, she'll punch me in the throat. Come to think of it, if I'm right—"

"She may punch you in the throat anyway," Wolowitz finishes. Sheldon can understand Leonard's hesitation; Penny has a brutal right hook, like something straight out of _Wonder Woman_. "I think you're gonna have to drop this one, Leonard. Unless you'd care to make a gentlemanly wager?"

Leonard mutters a response too low to pass through the door, and then says, at an audible level, "No. Never mind."

"Speaking of romance," says Wolowitz, and clears his throat. "I'm thinking about trying to pick up a transvestite."

"Howard, that's just pathetic," Leonard says.

"Yeah, but have you ever seen _RuPaul's Drag Race?_ Some of those men have legs up to here—"

"Speaking as someone who has experience with this sort of thing," Koothrappali says, "I can say that you are wrong on so many levels."

Sheldon releases the doorknob and steps away. Interesting, he thinks; this development is interesting, and he if doesn't know what to make of it—well, it's just one more thing to add to a growing list.

Two days ago he would have asked for Penny's opinion. He's not sure that's his best option anymore.

—

He approaches her nevertheless, when she's reading her horoscope the next morning. He's sorting through a stack of binders at his desk, searching for an article on Hilbert space theory he'd filed away last month, and she breaks into his thoughts.

"Sorry I won't be around for Halo tonight," she says. He twists around in his chair to face her; she's standing opposite him over the kitchen island, and as she speaks a globule of yogurt falls from her spoon and splatters against the newspaper.

"I'd hardly expect you to be in attendance when you have a dress rehearsal," Sheldon says. She hums in response and turns the page; the yogurt spreads to the counter. "Penny, based on contextual substantiation I...gathered yesterday, I am inclined to posit that Leonard has ascertained the nature of our relationship."

Penny looks up. "You're saying that Leonard finally figured out we're together?" She tilts her head. "Is he okay with it? You only pull out words that long when you're excited or nervous."

"I lack a more definitive label for our association, but yes, that is in essence correct. I'm not sure of his reaction, since I didn't speak directly with him about the matter. And I most certainly do not use polysyllabic words only when I'm nervous!"

"Sure you don't," Penny says, and grins around her spoon. He wants to—he wants something he can't express, but she's already absorbed in her paper again. He steals a moment to study her, the curl of her fingers around the edge of the paper, the slant of her body as she leans into the island. She's dressed in her work uniform, and the buttery yellow of her top contrasts with the golden flesh tones of her skin. He tried to match the shade of her hair to a hex color code once, but he could never decide if it was #FFCC44 or #CCEE55 or something in between.

His palms feel curiously flushed; his fingers sidle to the small velveteen box that sits hidden behind a stack of binders. "I propose we rectify that lack of definitive label," he says, and _propose_ is the operative word.

"Hm?" she says, and stirs her yoghurt cup. "What d'you mean?" Her focus is entirely elsewhere; his is entirely on her.

"I propose we marry," he clarifies.

Her head comes up slowly, and she sinks into the barstool behind her with an oddly immobile expression. "Oh my god," she says. "You're serious." He nods. "But, Sheldon—what? _Why?_"

_Why_ is certainly not his preferred reaction, but it's one for which he is prepared nevertheless. "I noted that it will provide a definitive label for our relationship," he says. "Additionally, it will provide a measure of financial security and assured companionship throughout our lives, it will afford a degree of respectability which will be beneficial for career advancement, it will allow for certain legal advantages—I can provide a list if you're interested—"

"I'm not," she says, and sets her hand down hard. Yoghurt spills over the side of the cup. "Is all that really why you're _asking me to marry you?_"

"They're valid points," he says, and can't quite meet her hard gaze.

She laughs, but it's not out of any good humor. "No, Sheldon, they're not! You can't just—sometimes I wonder if you even _like_ me!"

"Like you?" he asks incredulously. "Of course I like you. I allowed you to move in with me. I—" He stutters to a halt, unable to articulate more.

"Oh, you 'allowed me to move in,' did you? What a monumental sign of affection!"

"I don't understand why you're being so irrational about this," he snaps.

"No, you wouldn't," she says, and shoves her barstool back. He stands at the same time she does, and when she stalks around the counter the space between them is barren. He crosses his arms over his chest, his hands fist against his sides, and she mirrors him. Something goes out of the room, something intangible that he cannot name, and she slumps.

"Do you even love me?" The words tear out of her; they make him think of breaking things, of fracture mechanics and stress points.

"Love is merely the name we give to a series of reactions—"

"Sheldon," she says. "_Do you love me?_"

There's an endless moment, and he thinks of hex codes, he thinks of their morning runs, he thinks of the laundry room, and then quietly, helplessly, he says, "Gravity is not responsible for people falling in love."

"Too bad," she says. "Because then maybe you'd be able to understand it."

And she leaves.

She leaves: she shoves past him and snatches her keys from the bowl and opens the door, opens the door and closes it, and he waits for forty seconds and he can hear her car engine roar to life, he waits for ten more minutes and she doesn't return.

Finally he puts the velveteen box back in its place at the bottom of his dresser, and then for the first time ever he takes a day off work when he isn't sick.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to htbthomas for beta-reading this and sticking with me to the end...and for her perfect Spider-Man reference! ;D

She lasts four days before she finally breaks down and talks to Sheldon again. It's over something stupid—all her waitressing outfits are dirty because he didn't do her laundry the night before, and she's standing over the brand-new laundry hamper in her room and holding a yellow shirt covered in ketchup stains when she bursts into tears.

It's such a stupid small thing to have argued over, but it's not, it's an enormous thing, and Penny doesn't know how to make Sheldon understand that. Her initial anger has long cooled to a resigned sadness; she's had enough relationships fall apart on her to recognize what's happening even if Sheldon doesn't. It hurts more than she remembers, though, and the ache is set a little deeper in her chest. And now she doesn't leave her room in the mornings until he's long gone, and he comes home from work late or not at all, and she hasn't even asked how he gets to the university—

She crumbles to the floor and muffles her sobs with the stupid shirt and its stupid stains, and when she doesn't have any tears left she wipes her face and waits for the puffiness to go down a little and opens her door.

Sheldon's sitting in his spot watching an episode of _Firefly_. He has his legs crossed at the ankle and his head propped up by one fist against his temple; he doesn't look at her as she sinks down at the far end of the couch and tucks her hands beneath her thighs, so she stays quiet until the episode ends and he starts a new one. She actually recognizes the plot, too; it's the one where Wash and Mal get kidnapped and tortured by that creepy German guy. When the opening credits roll she opens her mouth, hesitates, and says, "Hi."

There's a beat, and then Sheldon clicks the volume down a few levels and says, "Hello," in a perfectly neutral tone of voice that drives Penny crazy.

She waits a few more seconds, until the episode has started to play again, and then right when Inara's speaking she says, "This is the one where the creepy German tortures Mal, right?" because she knows that drives _him_ crazy.

He hits the pause button and says, "Yes." After he's satisfied that she's finished speaking he hits play.

A few moments pass, and Penny says, "You know, I don't think it's unreasonable for Wash to want some sort of reassurance from Zoe about her relationship with Mal."

Sheldon makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat and hits the pause button again. "Don't be absurd. Zoe's relationship with Mal is clearly that of two soldiers who have bonded in the fires of war. Wash is being the unreasonable one, insisting that she express a sentiment that should be perfectly apparent." He starts the episode again and turns the volume up.

"Well, I think," Penny says, only to have him flick on the subtitles and turn the volume up yet again. "I think," she repeats, her voice probably loud enough to hear in the lobby. "I think that it's not 'absurd' of Wash at all. It's only human, because sometimes normal humans need to hear things. And it would show that she cares enough about him to make an effort."

Sheldon hits the pause. "Are you suggesting that Zoe isn't a 'normal human?'"

"No," Penny says, and Sheldon finally turns his head to look at her. "All I'm _suggesting_ is that maybe her..._experiences in the war_ have made her process things a little differently from Wash, and he's understanding of her so it would be nice if she could sometimes be understanding of him."

Sheldon dips his chin and studies her; there's always something intense about having his entire focus be on, well, her, and she can see the cogs working behind those heavy-lidded eyes of his. Finally he scowls and turns away. "Perhaps Wash simply needs to realize that his relationship paradigm is faulty," he says, and resumes playing the episode.

"Maybe Zoe needs to get her head out of her ass," Penny retorts. "Because there sure as hell isn't anything wrong with Wash!"

Sheldon hits mute long enough to snap, "Then Zoe should realize that their differences are irreconcilable and break off relations before her talents are wasted further!"

"And maybe Wash should go find someone to love who isn't a human icicle!" Penny snarls, already on her feet. Sheldon holds the volume button until the roar of Kaylee's engine room is deafening; Penny shrieks at the top of her lungs and then beats a retreat back to her bedroom, where she promptly collapses into tears again, this time in rage and frustration instead of sorrow.

—

Her brilliant solution is to corner Leonard in his office on Tuesday afternoon.

"He is such a complete _prick_," she says, and slams her purse down on Leonard's desk. Leonard flinches and tries to cover it by straightening his glasses. "Such a complete prick! I don't even know how we put up with him sometimes, but I swear to God, I think this is last straw—"

"Um," Leonard says. "Penny? Are you okay?"

"No," she says, dropping into one of his atrociously green chairs and covering her face with both hands. "No, because I'm angry and I'm sad and I can't figure my way out of this one. What if it's like this for the rest of our _lives_?" Her voice is muffled and her eyes are damp. "I can't take him being so clinical about everything—'Penny, we should marry,' 'Penny, we should procreate,' 'Penny, have you thought about the tax benefits of falling in love?"

"Er," Leonard says. "Who exactly are we talking about?"

She lifts her hands. "Sheldon," she says, and the hitch in her voice is definitely _not_ heartbreak. "Oh God, he said you knew—I'm sorry—"

"No, it's okay," Leonard says. "I kind of suspected, but it's a little shocking to hear you actually say it." There's also an absurdly wide grin spreading across his face.

"What?" she asks.

"Oh, nothing," he says. "I just remembered there's a bet I have to make later on today."

"Leonard." Her voice hitches again, and she gulps down a breath. "He asked me to marry him because it's a _good career move_."

The smile fades from Leonard's face. "He did _what_?"

Penny swallows. "He asked me to marry him because—it's respectable and there are legal advantages, and, and it's financially secure—" She finishes the sentence perilously close to a wail.

"Oh, Penny," Leonard says, and reaches across to hand her a tissue.

"I don't know what to _do_." She isn't sobbing, but there are clear wet tracks down her cheeks. "I don't know what to do, but you're his best friend, and I thought—"

Leonard sighs and takes off his glasses and begins polishing them with the sleeve of his jacket. She has a sudden vision of him twenty years from now, in a spacious office of dark wood, dressed in a tweed jacket and entirely beloved by his students for his warmth and brilliance. "Sheldon can be an idiot," he says.

"No kidding," Penny says weakly.

"Look, Penny—first I have to say that your relationship is clearly a lot farther along than I'd thought." He holds up a hand. "I'm not angry that you didn't tell me, but it does hurt a little."

Penny buries her face in her hands again. "I'm so sorry. We never wanted—I never wanted to hurt you. We just..."

"It's okay," Leonard says, and hands her another tissue. "I'm pretty well over it already. Although for a while I was running around thinking you had a secret boyfriend, and Howard had this idea you're dating a woman."

She smiles through her tears, and Leonard leans forward. "So let me get this straight," he says. "Sheldon proposed to you, but he probably did it in some horribly Sheldon-ish way, like asking you if you knew about the mating habits of African civet cats."

"That's pretty much it," she says. "Leonard, I know he's different, but if he can't bend enough to tell me he loves me—"

"Ooh," Leonard says. "I get it." He stands up and circles his desk to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, and he gives her a squeeze. "Let me tell you something about Sheldon," Leonard says. "He is, hands down, the most incredibly intelligent person I have ever known. Don't tell him I said that, though," he adds, and she gives a soppy giggle. "A lot of people mistake that for him being completely without feelings. I'm as guilty of joking about it as anyone, but Penny—Sheldon isn't emotionless. I think he feels things as deeply as any of us, maybe deeper, but the way he's wired, he doesn't always understand what he's feeling or know how to express it. And he hasn't always had an easy time of it in the world, either."

"But," Penny says, and sniffs. Leonard picks up the entire box of tissues from his desk and deposits it in her lap. "Where does that leave me?"

"Probably the best thing to do," Leonard answers, "is to give him a couple of days. He takes longer than normal people to figure this kind of thing out, but he usually gets it in the end. And if he loves you enough to propose," Penny's shoulders hike under his arm, "and I have no doubt that he loves you, especially since he asked you to marry him—he'll be thinking about this nonstop until he works out how to give you what you need. And in the meantime, _you_ have an opening weekend to worry about."

"About which to worry," Penny corrects him automatically, and then looks horrified at herself. "God, I do love him, don't I?"

Leonard rolls his eyes and halfway grins. "You must, to put up with him," he says, and is surprised when she lunges at him and wraps her arms around his waist. "Penny—what?"

"Thank you," she says into his armpit. "Just...thanks for being you, Leonard."

"Sure," Leonard says, and pats her awkwardly on the back. "Anything for the two of you. Anything."

—

She tries to do as Leonard suggests, but in practice she spends most of her time not at frantic dress rehearsals or last-minute costume fittings sitting in the dark, staring at her fish after Sheldon has gone to bed. She doesn't sleep much for the rest of the week, and she says even less to Sheldon, but most of the cast and crew seem to be running on coffee and adrenaline anyway. Before she knows it, it's Friday night and she's peeping out from backstage, trying to not let the skirt of her period dress get tangled with the curtain.

In the third row, near the center, she finally picks her guests out of the crowd. Howard and Raj are sitting to her right; Raj is hunched over in his seat and staring around goggle-eyed, and Howard seems to be dressed in...a purple suit? Beside Howard is Carrie, an intent expression on her face as she studies the program, and beside her is Grace, leaning over and whispering to Leonard. Leonard says something back and smile sheepishly, and Grace laughs. Next to Leonard is a conspicuously empty seat; Penny clutches hard at the plush red velvet and tries not to care, and then the stage manager is screeching for the principals to take their places as the curtain rises. There's a beat; Penny marches onstage and says her first line, and the crowd roars with laughter.

She doesn't remember much after that—only the glare of lights and the give-and-take. She pushes Sheldon from her mind; the play is two parts farce and three parts human interest, and she falls into the rhythm and everything _locks_. Suddenly she's coming onstage just before the lead actors to take her bow, and when she does the audience surges to their feet.

She changes out of her costume and meets her friends fifteen minutes later in the lobby; Grace has her arm tucked through Leonard's elbow, and Penny feels a surge of envy and longing for the man who should be there to take her arm. She plasters on her perkiest smile and weaves her way through the crowd to them. "Hey, guys!" she says. "So? What'd you think?"

"Oh, honey, you were fantastic," Carrie says, and sweeps her into a hug, which is awkward only because Carrie is a foot taller than her and wearing a low-cut blouse.

"You did an amazing job!" Grace says, and Raj echoes the sentiment with an enthusiastic nod, even going so far as to pat her briefly on the arm.

"Thanks," Penny says, and despite herself her gaze drifts to Leonard. "He didn't...?"

Leonard's eyes soften and he shakes his head. "Sorry, Penny. I haven't seen him."

This time Penny can't stop the disappointment that washes through her. "That's okay," she says, "I didn't really expect—it would have been nice if he'd said—"

"Honey," Carrie interrupts, and points over her shoulder. "Why don't you tell him yourself?" Penny whirls around so fast she nearly staggers over—

And there he is.

He's standing ten feet behind her, dressed in the deep burgundy shirt and chocolate vest she'd picked out for him, and in one hand he's holding a bouquet of bright orange and pink Gerber daisies.

She gapes for a moment, and then says, "I didn't think you were here."

"Of course I'm here," he answers, but without the expected belligerence. His tone is warm and a little unsure, unlike anything she's ever heard from him before.

"You brought me flowers," she says dumbly.

He shifts and shrugs and his eyes never leave hers. "Peter brought Mary Jane flowers after her performance in _Spider-Man 3_."

"You don't even like _Spider-Man 3_. You think it's a corruption of canon and the villains aren't used properly," she says.

"No," he agrees, "but I had little else to go on," and then she snaps out of her paralysis and launches herself across the floor at him. He catches her with his long arms and whirls her around, and she laughs and buries her face against his neck and tries not to sob.

"I didn't think you were coming," she whispers into his collar. "I didn't think—"

"Don't be ridiculous," he says, and she has the strange idea that he's trying not to smile. "Of course I came. Of course I'm here." He grasps her closer for one long moment, then sets her back on her feet and presents her with the bouquet. She takes it from him and lets her fingers linger against his as she presses it to her face and inhales, and then he steps away and offers her his hand. "Will you come outside with me?" he asks.

"Yes," she answers, and smiles. He slides his hand into hers and starts to lead her to a side exit; she has just enough time to cast one glance over her shoulder and hear Leonard crow, "Pay up!" before they're out in the fresh night air.

She follows him to the small garden just off the theater's new wing, and he guides her to a low bench beneath a willow tree. She sets the flowers beside her and tucks her blue skirt under her knees and looks up at his face in the moonlight. As she watches, he squares his shoulders and uncharacteristically shoves his hands in his pockets, ruining the line of his designer pants.

"Penny," he starts, and she wonders if his hands are in his pockets to keep him from fidgeting. "I...find that I have been remiss in telling you exactly what you mean to me. You are, undoubtedly, the most important person in my life."

"Oh," Penny says, and then, "_oh,_" because he, _Sheldon Cooper_, actually drops to his knees in front of her.

"Don't ever doubt how much I love you," he says, and presses something small and hard into her hand. When she unfurls her fingers the ring is nestled in her palm, a simple round diamond set into a platinum band.

"Ask," she says, "Sheldon, _ask_—"

"Penny," he says, "will you marry me?"

She throws her arms around him and slides off the bench and kisses him. When they finally pull away to breathe she presses her forehead against his and says, "No."

His eyes widen, and she touches her finger to his lips. "Sheldon," she says clearly, so there will be no misunderstandings. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I have no doubt that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Just—not _yet_, okay? For the past year we've been sliding along, and our friends only now found out about us, and I think we still have a lot to learn about each other."

"So not now," he says.

"But someday. Soon," she adds, and then he does smile at her, and they watch each other giddily until the ground begins to hurt their knees. She slides the ring—_her_ ring—back into his pocket, and he helps her to her feet.

"Penny," he says, and takes her hand again. "Would you care to define the time value of 'soon?' For instance, would it be ill-mannered of me to repeat the question as early as next week?"

Penny laughs. "I guess you'll just have to ask and find out."


End file.
